Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. I wish I did. Because that Patrick/Kat kiss was too good to be true. Squee!

Author's Notes: So, I'm totally hooked on "10 Things I hate About You". I am SO in love with Patrick/Kat pairing. It's like, amazing. And I think Bianca is just adorable, the perfect little budding popular girl. Anyway, off topic there, I had this idea bouncing in my head and I thought I would get it out there.

Basically set after "Dance Little Sister", Kat thinking about Patrick and a bit of a take from the pilot when Bianca said "I'll tell dad you're not a virgin." My little take on that statement and the obstacles Patrick is going to have to go through to prove that he's better then Kat's ex, and that she's the only girl for him.

The characters might seem a little OOC, and there will be a fair amount of Bianca/Joey; and Cameron/Bianca. Enough rambling, this is just a little starter chapter. Hope you Enjoy! Happy Readings!

Saturday had gone slow. Very, very slow. Kat had started off her day walking down to breakfast with Bianca, more then ready to face the unavoidable Spanish Inquisition from their father. What she wasn't expecting was Bianca to start crying three minutes into the interrogation, sobbing incoherently about how much guys suck. Kat took this as her cue to quietly sneak off.

She had spent the morning out on the patio doing some homework and starting an essay that was due in a week for her English class. After trying to avoid her father from the morning's breakfast fun time, she had caved and watched a movie with him. Anything was better then thinking about the dance and thinking about him.

The afternoon had held nothing for her. She ended up falling asleep to one of her records and had woken up to a warm plate of food her father left on her desk.

And that was it. Her day had been another day of boring chores, homework, and a little father time. Who, thankfully, did not bring up the dance or her date or anything else. He had either been tipped off by Bianca it had been a rough night for both Stratford sisters or he was a little nervous more tears would flow.

Kat did not care either way. She was grateful her father had stayed silent, only making short jokes as the movie progressed.

Now, however, as the clock on her nightstand reminded her it was well past one in the morning, it was hard to keep thoughts harbored. In the darkness of her room, thoughts of dances and boys with deep voices played across her brain like a slide show. Her favorite scene, honestly, was her sitting at the dance like a moron, waiting for her prince on the white horse. Scratch that. Patrick Verona was no prince. He was nothing but a jackass with charisma.

Then again, didn't they all have charisma?

She groaned, shifting so she was facing the window. A part of her was happy that she had fallen asleep, because a part of her thought he would show up later that night. A part of her was holding on to him creeping up the trellis, with flowers and a sweet apology. This part of her was not only delusional, but was the one thing about herself she wished she could change. That need to still wish and hope on far-fetched things.

The window, as well as the miniscule balcony, had been empty all afternoon and night. There would be no midnight rendezvous.

A car backfiring caused her to jump in her bed, which only made Kat growl in frustration before swinging her feet so she could sit up. Insomnia did not sit well with the fiery brunette.

She stood up and walked over to her desk, putting on the lamp and flopping down in the rickety chair. She pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it, sticking her hand to the deep back.

Memories were a killer. She tried hard to forget a lot of things, but at the end of the day, she could only do so much. Some of the memories hurt more then others. Mostly the ones involving her mom, because those were more sacred, more emotional. Other memories, however, hurt her to the point of closing herself off from sarcastic, vampire-esque males.

"Love to torture myself." She mumbled to herself, running her fingers over the cool leather cover. She closed her eyes and opened the photo album, her hand already tracing the picture before she had allowed her eyes to open.

She stared down at the glossy page, her lips twitching at the two figures. The boy was only a little taller then her, a few inches if that. He had brown hair that looked golden in the sun. His eyes, masked by sun glasses, were a brilliant green. He was toned, but also a bit lanky. She had memorized him the first time she saw him.

A new slide show began to play in her head. It had been the first day back from winter break, and she had been rushing down the halls in an effort to be on time. The boy, Justin, had been a year older and on the soccer team, he was the reason she had walked into her sophomore chemistry class five minutes late. He became the reason, for the rest of the year, for a lot of her tardies.

She closed her eyes, leaning into the chair. He was funny, athletic, and cute. Everyone loved him, girls, guys, the teachers, and most importantly her father. Justin had won the heart of her dad by playing up sports, and by straying the conversation from sex and babies to football and the proper way to treat a woman. Justin was her, and it was sad to say, everything.

But, then again, everything doesn't always mean as much to the other person.

She had devoted herself to him. She went to all his soccer games, helped with fundraisers for the team, helped him with his studies; and, as the memories flooded her mind, Kat grimaced at all of things that made her sick to her stomach now.

Justin left for San Diego for the summer, to visit an aunt or something. And with him being Kat's whole world, she didn't mind sleeping with him a few days before his flight, proving how much she truly cared for him. It was the least she could have done, she swore to herself.

The thought of sex, even though it had been drilled in her head as Satan's ticket to hell since she had started liking boys, was still something mysterious and glamorous. Or, well, at least that had been her common misconception; in all honesty, at the time, if she had never had sex again she felt her life would have been complete.

She tossed the album on to her desk, growled for what seemed like the one millionth time, and practically threw herself back on to her bed. Tears had started forming in the corners of her eyes and she had sworn that Justin had had his allotted amount of tears cried for him.

Pressing her face into her pillow, she finished her thoughts of her self-changing summer. Because while Justin was in San Diego visiting his aunt or something, Kat had discovered that as a woman she had more power then just being some boy's toy. And as she began dabbling in feminism and punk rock and darker, edgier clothes, she was realizing that when Justin got back their relationship would be changed. He would obviously be ok with it, because look at all the things she had done for him.

So, as she got Bianca (who was already known through out the school because she had been the junior high's princess) ready to face her first day of high school, she prepared for her reunion with the love of her young, naïve life.

Kat rolled over and faced the ceiling once again. She had spent the summer improving herself, becoming a better a person so she could better the world. And while she still drew heart's around Justin's name, she was a brand new girl. The problem was, Justin had already decided what kind of brand new girl he wanted. And he had spent the summer in her bed.

The clock on the nightstand read two-forty five, and the hands of sleep were finally tugging at Kat. She closed her eyes, the pillow catching any stray tears that might have still been in the corners of her brown orbs.

Thoughts of Justin and Patrick were put to rest, just as thoughts of grand gestures or simple apologies were shot to hell.